Page 21 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 1

“As long as I’ve been warned, it’s on me.”God, I’d like to be on him.Is it the rejection that has me so hot for him? I’m pretty sure it’s everything about him. “Since you’re fading,” he starts, tucking his phone in his back pocket, “you can stay here and get some rest. I’ll hang out in the living room and let you know when Harrison returns.”

Wait, that’s not what I wanted. Not at all. Shoot, he read me all wrong. I’ve been hot and cold, and coming on so strong with this man, I’ve scared him away completely. But what do I want? Where could this possibly lead? Checking the clock, I realize I have to leave for the airport in eight hours. The fun I was having blaming the alcohol has ended. I only have myself to blame for any further embarrassment.

It seems impossible to determine in the next few seconds, so I start to believe in his plan. “It’s probably best if we call it a night. Thanks for letting me borrow your bed.”

“No worries.”

Snuggling down, I roll to my side, but my eyes trail him as he moves to the doorway. Even with the distance between us, I can see the weight of the day beginning to drag his shoulders down. As he turns out the light, he says, “I’ll let you know when I hear from the others.”

“The otherssounds like they’re aliens or something.”

“Go to sleep, Natalie.” I may not be able to see his smile, but I can sense it in his tone.

I giggle. “Sorry, my mind goes into overdrive sometimes. Night.”

“Good night.”

I watch him disappear into the other room. I love that I can smell his scent around me, but I hate the emptiness filling the room.

I can be alone.

I swear I can.

My last relationship reminds me daily that I’m better off alone than being with someone who doesn’t respect me. Nick is different. I can already tell because most guys would have jumped at the opportunity to have sex. Not that I’m going to declare Nick a saint just yet, but he’s definitely stealing the title of Prince Charming.

Lying here, I close my eyes and think about how nice it would be to have the warmth of his body wrapped around me.

Yep. I definitely have a problem being alone. This is when I break the cycle and learn to stand on my own two feet. I don’t need a man. Wanting them is the bad habit I need to break.

Readjusting, I punch the pillow to fluff the down and tug the blanket out from under me to cover my body. The room is quiet, so I listen for any sounds in the living room. Yes, I’m half-ass eavesdropping on Nick. But I’m met with silence.

Why is it so quiet? I sit up, trying harder to pick up on anything—the sound of typing a text because what psycho turns off that sound, of talking on the phone or even whispering, or the TV playing to pass the time or fall asleep on the couch while waiting. I get nothing.

The bed has lost its comfort, so I flip off the covers and pad to the door. Curiosity consumes me, so I peek out and see him standing in the doorway to the terrace. He takes a sip of the dark liquid, the melting ice taking up more space than the liquor in the glass.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean against the doorframe. Nick’s back is to me, his shirt billowing in the wind. His curls look more natural in this setting. Maybe they weren’t windblown or curled from the helmet, but natural instead. Either way, my affection for them has grown exponentially . . . just as it has for the man.

“Nick?” My voice is quiet in the spacious villa, but he hears me and turns around.

“You’re up? You’re not tired?”

“I am, but . . .” I chicken out, shifting my weight to the other foot and fidgeting with the hem of my shirt. “Did you hear from Harrison?” I have no idea what I’m doing. Flirting? Seducing? Biding my time until Tatum returns?Please don’t let Tatum return any time soon.

Why does that sharp-edged jaw and shoulders broad enough to span Brooklyn to Manhattan have to be so tempting? I dance around what I really want to ask. “What do you think about us becoming friends?”

There’s a quiet strength about Nick—the way he moves so effortlessly, the comfort he embodies in his own skin, and how observant he is as if he can see right through me. The most genuine smile I’ve ever seen covers all other pretenses, letting them fall away and easing his muscles. “It’s better than strangers.”

“I agree.”

“What does this friendship entail? Sharing personal information?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Phone numbers? Maybe even room numbers since you know mine?”

Quirking my lips to the side, I roll my eyes. “I got your number all right, but I was thinking more along the lines of snuggling.”

“Snuggling?”

“Yes, Nick, it’s another term for cuddling. My body and your body sharing heat and, I don’t know, just lying in the same bed together.” I sound like an idiot, but my gut also twists at the thought of being rejected again.

As if he can read my mind, he sets his glass on the coffee table and comes toward me, taking hold of my hands. “Will you snuggle with me, Natalie?”

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